


Sleep Aid

by akelios



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Biting, Come play, Dresden Files Kink Meme, Handcuffs, Incest, M/M, Manipulations, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akelios/pseuds/akelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My room was dark when I climbed into bed, the sheets cool and welcoming. I lay back, my eyes closed and tried to will myself into sleep. For a few minutes, it seemed as though it might work. Exhaustion pulled at me, tried to take me in its arms and let me find some rest. I turned, my bed comfortable but not enough. I was both too tired and too energized to drop off into sleep.</p>
<p>I rolled onto my back and reached into the top drawer of my nightstand without looking. The slick was right where I had left it; beside the artifact that I had purchased from Ms. Gard's company. I dropped the slick onto the bed beside my hip and found the correct runes on the concave side of the disc by touch alone. Energy tingled over my hands, rather like the feeling of zapping myself on an electrical plug – not quite painful, but very attention getting. As it had every time before, the feeling made me throb and grow hard, as though I hadn't been half way there already. Seeing Dresden did that to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While this should be clear to anyone who has read anything I write, my Marcone tends to not be a very nice guy. You should probably just keep that in mind.

He'd been holding onto Dresden's upper arm so hard I suspected there would be a perfect bruise in the shape of Raith's hand there in the morning. The rain had started pouring down in the middle of the battle and Dresden had gotten soaked, his hair straggling into his eyes, obscuring their intensity.

I had wanted to- I needed to find something to counter the effect of the White Court. Something to shield myself from them. Once I had that, their speed and strength were easily dealt with. It was just a matter of proper preparation and-

“Johnny!” I jerked my head up and looked at Mr. Hendricks in the rear view mirror. He was frowning, the look on his face clearly stating that he had been calling my name for several minutes without response. “We're home.”

So we were. I looked out the windows to see that not only were we home, but we were physically in the garage with the car turned off. A few of the men were moving around, taking the weapons and our prize from the trunk, checking the scrapes and dings on the left side of the car. It had come out of the battle a little worse for the wear, having been used as a shield against the brute faerie muscle that the sorcerer had called into her service.

“I'm sorry. It's been a long day.” I climbed out of the car and leaned against the door, rubbing at my face. I was tired, down to the bone and beyond. The best thing to do would be to climb up the stairs and just drop into bed for a few hours. Perhaps even have my first few appointments pushed back until later in the day. I was of no use to anyone if I was too tired to think straight.

“Yeah. You sure you don't need to get looked at?” Mr. Hendricks tugged at the front of my jacket, pulling it away to highlight the four long tears in it. I pulled the ruined cloth out of his hand and took the jacket off, revealing my similarly ripped shirt. There were a few spots of blood on the white cloth.

“I'm certain. The armor took the most serious damage. Its claws only caught skin just above where the armor starts.” I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it away to show him the truth of what I was saying. Four tiny puncture wounds that trailed off into shallow scrapes before they were stopped by the armor. Nothing serious. “I don't even need stitches this time.”

“Hmph.” Large, careful fingers probed at the wounds and fingered the marks on the armor. “Good stuff. I'll speak with Ms. Gard about getting more of the same for the guys.”

“We've been working with her for more than two years now. I think you can call her Sigrun.” We started into the house.

“Not until she tells me I can.” He smiled. “Though maybe I should just ask.”

“Maybe.” We stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Seven?”

“Seven-thirty. I need some sleep boss.” I snorted, a noise that made Mr. Hendricks grin. He was a good five years younger then I was. It wasn't his sleep he was worried about.

“Fine, fine.” I waved my hand as if I were indulging him. “Seven-thirty. Don't get used to it.”

“'Course not. 'Night.”

I showered quickly, cleaned and bandaged the scrapes. They made disinfectant that didn't sting; I never used it. The burn was sharp and unquestionably pleasant. It mixed with the left over adrenaline and the low powered aching want that I always left any meeting with Dresden with. 

My room was dark when I climbed into bed, the sheets cool and welcoming. I lay back, my eyes closed and tried to will myself into sleep. For a few minutes, it seemed as though it might work. Exhaustion pulled at me, tried to take me in its arms and let me find some rest. I turned, my bed comfortable but not enough. I was both too tired and too energized to drop off into sleep. 

I rolled onto my back and reached into the top drawer of my nightstand without looking. The slick was right where I had left it; beside the artifact that I had purchased from Ms. Gard's company. I dropped the slick onto the bed beside my hip and found the correct runes on the concave side of the disc by touch alone. Energy tingled over my hands, rather like the feeling of zapping myself on an electrical plug – not quite painful, but very attention getting. As it had every time before, the feeling made me throb and grow hard, as though I hadn't been half way there already. Seeing Dresden did that to me.

Light flickered over my ceiling, blue white static until it steadied and resolved itself into a steadily glowing blue screen. I let my mind wander through the images I had used before. Harry bent over the hood of that stupid little car of his, or in the middle of SI with all of his cop friends watching as he shouted and rode me, the desk beneath us creaking as though it were seconds away from shattering. The screen above me played out snatches of my imaginings. All lovely, all enough to make me ache just a little more. Good, but not quite enough.

Raith's handsome smirk swam across the screen, blocking out everything else. His hands around Dresden's arms, tugging at him, drawing the taller man into his space until they were pressed together. My lips peeled back from my teeth and I snarled at the screen. It was going to be one of those nights. Of course it was. 

The image resolved into the interior of Raith's apartment. The sterile white and chrome furnishings looking like nothing so much as the set of a high end porno. Harry came walking out from around the corner of the hallway, his hair dripping wet and a small white towel wrapped around his hips. His skin glowed under the lights, still slick from the shower. 

Raith stepped into view, dressed as he had been earlier in black slacks and a thin white tank-top. Harry smiled and ruffled his hands through his wet hair, spraying Raith with droplets of water. Raith said something too quiet to be heard and stepped into Harry's space, his hands pulling Harry's head down to his own. They kissed; a quiet, brief moment of peace. I fumbled for the slick and poured some into my hand without taking my eyes off the screen.

Harry broke the embrace first, stepping away from Raith. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes heavy and dark with lust. I could see his erection through the thin cloth of the towel. He walked backwards a step and the towel gaped, allowing me flashes of thigh and the smoother, tight stretched skin of his bobbing sex.

“Not right now, Thomas. I've got to get dressed and go meet Murph.” Harry swallowed hard, clearly working on getting himself under control. Raith moved across the space between them too fast to be seen, ending behind Harry, his head barely visible over Harry's shoulder. He came up onto the balls of his feet, giving himself enough height to place a kiss against the side of Harry's throat. Harry jerked, his hands coming down to grip Raith's wrists where his arms crossed over Harry's stomach.

Of course Raith was too strong to be moved like that, even by a wizard. I wrapped my hand carefully around myself, my pulse pounding in the flesh beneath my hand. A slow, even stroke up and then back down. Not too hard, not yet. It was always a matter of careful timing. Harry was pulling at Raith, telling him that it wasn't funny and to let go. There was no panic or fear in his voice, only a thread of annoyance and exasperated amusement. Raith bit at the spot he had been kissing, his eyes fading to a lighter blue as he did so. Harry's protest broke off on a groan, his fingers convulsing in their grip on Raith before letting go and sliding up Raith's arms.

“I thought you said we didn't have time for this.” Raith took the lobe of Harry's ear between his teeth and tugged. His arms broke Harry's grip and started to wander, one of them working up Harry's chest and tracing the curve of every single rib on the way. He pinched one pale pink nipple between two fingers, rolling it and rubbing his thumb over the tip until it stood erect and flushed darker with blood. Raith's other hand slid up into the gap of the towel and was moving. Not the steady motions he would make if he were jerking Harry off, but slow circular movements probably right behind the base of Harry's penis. Teasing him. I gave myself a little squeeze and let my hand move back, my fingers pressing into the same place as Raith was touching Harry. I gasped at the sparks that shook me, my thighs tightening a little. It wasn't as good as what Harry was getting.

“W-we don't...” Harry's head fell back, baring his throat to me. To _Raith_. Raith left off playing with Harry's chest and that hand found the muscular column of his throat. He bracketed Harry's throat just beneath the line of his jaw and drew his head back further, nearly unbalancing the taller man. Harry whined and his hips rolled forward once. Raith bit at his shoulder and then stepped back, releasing Harry entirely. “What- hey!” Harry staggered and whirled on Raith, frustration visible in the tension of his back.

“You said we didn't have time. So I'm respecting your wishes.” Raith's smirk could be heard in his voice, though Harry was blocking my actual sight of the vampire.

“No. Dammit, Thomas. You started this, so finish it! Don't-”

Raith tackled Harry to the floor, his skin glowing faintly. Harry's breath left him in a whuff as his back hit the carpet. Raith crouched over him, pinned Harry's arms to his sides with his knees and peeled off his wet shirt to reveal muscles that only belonged on a photoshopped Spartan warrior.

“'Finish'? Finish what, Harry?” Raith leaned down and licked along Harry's collarbone, his hands wandering again, touching every inch of bare skin that he could reach. Harry was cursing and writhing beneath him, unable to dislodge the smaller man. “What would you like me to do?” Raith was speaking against Harry's stomach now, having slid down the length of his body until he was sitting on his legs.

“Thomas! Come on. You know- hells bells. Please. Alright? Please.”

“Please what? Please stop? Please suck you off? Please,” Raith yanked off the towel and wrapped his hand around Harry's length, squeezing at the base before he stroked upwards, drawing Harry's hips up off the floor with the motion. “pin you against the window as I fuck you? You're going to have to be specific Harry. I'm getting mixed messages here...”

“Fuck.” Harry shook, his hands flying back and forth between grabbing at Raith and clawing at the plush carpeting beneath him. I avoided my own erection entirely, ran my hands down the insides of my thighs and then back up, dragging my blunt nails up the sensitive skin before cupping my slick hand around my balls, massaging them carefully. I wrapped my dry hand around the swollen head of my erection, ran my thumb over the tip and arched into the dry scrape of the feeling. 

Harry, on the screen above me, was slick now with sweat. The water from the shower having long since evaporated. His heels drummed against the carpet, unseen but loud in my ears even over the sounds of his breathing and the gasped out curses. Raith was still pinning him down, one arm tucked between their two bodies. I could hear the wet squelching sounds that came from beneath Harry. Raith was teasing him with his fingers, stretching him out slowly with just enough pressure to remind him of what it felt like to be filled but not enough to satisfy anything.

“Come on Harry. Tell me what you want and this can stop. No more teasing. Just exactly what you want.” Raith did something that made Harry scream and throw his head back. I stared at the wet cavern of his mouth, at the lips that I thought must be soft in spite of their chapped and bitten appearance.

He collapsed back onto the carpeting, his mouth moving as he struggled for air. Slowly, his hands still yanking at the carpet beneath him words began to become clear as if he had been saying them for a long time without the air to make them be heard.

“...fuck me Thomas. Please, please fuck me. Here or on the couch. Bend me over the back of the couch and take me until I can't see, can't breathe. Until I can fucking feel you in the back of my goddamned throat. Fuck me please, Thomas, please...” And he was sobbing with each breath. I had to clamp down hard, strangle the orgasm that was threatening me at the sound of Harry who would never take anything, never ask for anything, _begging_. I lay there, panting, my heart hammering and watched.

Raith bit at the soft skin of Harry's stomach and then moved faster than human sight again. Harry was on his hands and knees, his head hanging down a little as his shoulders shook. I could see his erection dangling between his legs, nearly dark purple with pooled blood. Ready to burst. Raith knelt behind Harry and scratched his nails down the knobby curve of Harry's spine as he ripped open his slacks with his free hand.

Harry kept up his litany of pleas right up until the moment that Raith took him by the hips and slammed into him. Harry screamed and met the thrust, pushed back into it. His hair fell into his eyes, sweat dripping down his face, his chin, to splatter against the carpet. Raith laughed and moved, harder and faster, jerking Harry back and forth on him like a doll. Harry cursed at him when he had the breath for it and egged Raith on, pounding his fists into the floor.

I trembled with unmet need watching them, violence and lust mingled together with Harry drawing it out, begging for more with his body when he couldn't with his voice. My slick fingers rolled my balls once more, tight and ready for that last thing, the one to send me over the edge. I reached behind them, the angle awkward but I was unwilling to make it easier for myself, and slipped the tip of my middle finger past the dry ring of my entrance. It burned, the lubricant not enough to make it easy. Perfect.

Raith leaned over Harry's back, reached up and took hold of the shaggy, sweat soaked hair at the back of Harry's head and yanked his head back. The position must have been awkward for both of them, but it let me see Harry's face, a slack grimace of almost fulfilled _need_ contorting his face. His eyes were wide, unseeing. Blinded by pleasure. My jaw ached with a sudden desire to sink my teeth into the skin of his throat and feel the rapid _thumpthumpthump_ of his heartbeat in my mouth, on my tongue. 

“So good. So good, baby.” Raith moaned, clichéd little bits of affection. His fingers dug into Harry's hip, twisted in his hair and Raith came. He filled Harry with his seed, pulled out in the middle of it and the last few pulses hit Harry's ass, splashed a line or two along the small of his back. 

Harry started to collapse, Raith's hands on his hips now the only thing holding him up. Raith flipped him onto his back and knelt by his side. One hand reached down and spread Harry's legs. Raith leaned down and took Harry's desperate erection in this mouth, humming around it as he took the entire length down his throat before slowly dragging his mouth back up. He grinned as he did it, scraping his teeth very carefully over the sensitive organ.

I wanted to see-

The view changed and I was between Harry's spread legs. Raith's hand was holding him open, the tip of one finger teasing along the swollen and red entrance. The muscle there twitched and pulsed as I watched, my hand now moving freely along my own length. This was what I'd been waiting for. The sight of Harry, spread out and fucked, semen trickling out of him as his body fought to hold it in. Fucked to the point of desperate incoherence. 

Raith moved his hand and drove two of his fingers into Harry's wet, grasping hole. Harry whined and tried to arch back into the intrusion. Raith pinned him down easily with one hand, controlling him. Making him take just exactly what Raith wanted to give him. The vampire drew it out, using teeth and tongue, his hands in just nearly the right places and the right amounts of pressure. He tortured Harry until the wizard was a limp collection of reactions, no thought but the need to come.

I was ready. Just- one more-

Harry came with a whimper, his body clenching around Raith's fingers, squeezing out more come around them to drip down his ass. Messy sounds filled the air as Raith swallowed, inhumanly fast at that too. Harry collapsed when it was over, his face flushed bright red and covered in sweat. There was a small bead of sweat trembling on the end of his nose. I wanted to lick it off.

Raith pulled his fingers from Harry, gleaming with his come. He opened his mouth and slid those fingers in carefully. I could see the remnants of Harry's orgasm sitting on his tongue, glistening ropey white against bright red. Raith swirled his tongue around his already coated fingers, adding a layer of Harry's come to Raith's and then he touched the heavily wetted fingers to Harry's gasping mouth.

Harry, his eyes barely open, lapped at the first few drops that fell onto his lips. He took hold of Raith's wrist in a trembling hand and drew the come covered fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. I could see the flickering movements of Harry's tongue as he cleaned the digits, swallowing the mingled come of his lover and himself.

I came, the images on the screen flicking rapidly so that I was in the room, somehow crouched over Harry as he cleaned off Raith's fingers, coming on his face. I covered him from chin to forehead, spattering over his closed eyes so that tiny beads of my seed gathered on his eyelashes. Warm, thick liquid ran down my hand, splashed onto my stomach and my thighs. My sheets stuck to me, heavy and wet.

The images started to change again, Raith and Harry curled up on the floor, the image version of myself curled around Harry on the opposite side of Raith. I found the disc where it sat on my chest and pressed in the middle. The image vanished faster than it had appeared.

I wiped my hand clean on the far side of the sheets and cleaned up in a rushed way, dropping the disc and the slick back into their places and wiping off enough that I wouldn't wake to find any part of me glued to any other part of me. Then I tore off the top sheet and dropped it off the side of the bed.

Sleep finally pulled at me for real, all of my muscles pleasantly tingling and lax. I dropped my head back onto my pillows, closed my eyes and let sleep take me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place an unspecified amount of time after the end of the first chapter. Enough time has passed for Marcone to woo Harry into his bed.

Harry was warm and loose limbed as I climbed into his narrow bed and produced the disc with a quick flourish. He laughed as I gave a small bow with just my upper body then dropped the cool stone onto his stomach. 

“You really like this thing, don't you? Should I leave you two alone?” Harry picked it up and walked it through his fingers. It was awkward, not the right size or shape for the simple trick but Harry made it work. His father had taught him well.

I laughed, leaning over and kissing him, breathing in his scent. Tasting him. 

“I only enjoy it because it let's me know what you want.” I curled against his side, plucking the disc from his hand and rubbing my thumb over the rune that activated it. The quiet hum of it ran across my skin, over Harry. We gasped and moaned together, synchronized excitement.

We turned to look at the ceiling. Harry's fingers plucked at the waist of my pants, skipping over my skin and brushing just under the fabric. Teasing. Something he only did when he was well and truly buzzed. If it was ever going to happen it would be now.

The image buzzed and flickered, flipping through thoughts as quickly as they crossed Harry's mind. Some of them I recognized; Harry handcuffed to a chair in an interrogation room in SI, me on my knees in front of him, Sergeant Murphy watching from across the room; Harry and Sergeant Murphy on that ridiculous boat of Raith's, drowsing nude in the sun on the deck. Harry pinning me against the shelves in the Chicago Public Library, my head banging into a row of religious texts with every hard thrust Harry made into me. Harry and I in the park, a private box at the opera and in the middle of the weight equipment at _Executive Priority_. 

Harry, I had realized shortly after I introduced the disc to our encounters, loved the idea of having sex in public. Not being watched, though that occasionally featured, but the thrill of doing something so private somewhere so public. The danger of being discovered.

The images began to slow, finally stopping. 

The room was unfamiliar to me. There was a sense to it, a feel of being small and quiet and warm. Like lazy summer afternoons in high school. Even though we were just looking at it, no more personal than watching a video, the _feel_ of it was incredibly real. 

A bedspring creaked and a slim, tanned back came into view. I recognized Harry, though the body wasn't exactly right. Too skinny, too short. Bony, with a nearly stretched look to him. Still growing. I was certain it was him, in spite of the differences. With his back to me I could see the star-burst shaped scar just above his elbow where the bone had stabbed through it. Harry had broken his arm during shield training when he was fifteen. From the look of the scar he was maybe sixteen in this fantasy.

The bed creaked and moved, a long pale arm appeared from in front of Harry, wrapping around him. Pulling him in close. We could hear soft words, too quiet to be distinct. A muffled laugh followed by a wet, sucking sound. Kissing.

Harry, beside me, squirmed and ran his hand down over the front of my jeans, cupping me loosely through the fabric. I turned away from the scene playing out on his bedroom ceiling and licked at the curve of his ear, then along the line of his hair. Salt and heat rolled over my tongue. Harry moaned and the sound was echoed from above us. 

When I looked back the perspective had changed. We were now looking down at the boys on the bed. Both Harry and the other boy were long limbed and dark haired, though the resemblance stopped there. The pale young man mouthing at the hollow of Harry's throat was beautiful, nearly full grown and well built. There was something about the way he moved, too smoothly for a human teenager, something in the line of his jaw and the curl of his heavy black hair. I thought I knew who Harry's friend was and my heart beat hard and fast in my chest. 

It was working. Not precisely in the fashion I had expected, but then Harry was always doing things in a way that both gave me what I wanted and did not at the same time.

They moved together slowly, with a visible sense of exploration and wonder. A first time? Yes. That felt right. In spite of Thomas' slightly greater age than Harry in this fantasy, it was obvious from the way they fumbled at one another, more eager than skilled, that neither of them had much experience with sex. Harry hooked one leg over Thomas' hip, pulling him closer so that their erections lay against each other, rubbing slowly and gently with each breath. 

There was no urgency to anything they did, which was odd if this was meant to be a first time. I recalled my own and there had been nothing but urgency and then the shameful realization that I had barely managed to touch the smooth skin of her breast and her hip before I was undone at her feet. Still, it was lovely to watch. A slow, underwater quality to everything. Even the light added to that sense, waving across of them in bright bands like the tide.

Harry had gone still against my side, his hand no longer moving but simply resting on me. I risked a look at his face. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide. A flush deep enough to be seen in the gloom covered his neck, made his ears turn dark. I felt, for an instant, terribly voyeuristic. A small voice I hadn't heard in years told me I should stop this, or at least stop watching.

I might even have listened to it except it was drowned out by the wet moan from over my head.

Everything had changed again. The boys were no longer lying face to face on the bed. They sat now, the background details of the room faded and smudged, unimportant. Thomas was behind Harry, biting into the side of his throat as he reached around. Their legs tangled together, muscle and skin sliding in jerking stops, stuck together with sweat. 

Harry moaned again and ground back into Thomas' lap before arching his hips forward and up, driving himself through the loose grip on his cock. Thomas spoke and Harry clutched at the arm wrapped around his waist, his fingers digging into the pale flesh until it sparked red beneath his hands. If Raith had been human it would have left bruises, broken skin.

I waited, barely breathing as they moved together above us. Harry, the one who was boiling hot and hard, breathing heavily into my ear moved his hips in time with the movements of the Harry above us. He would have to admit to it now. Finally.

They worked together, fumbling but somehow graceful with it all the same until it was inevitable that they end it. Just as they were coming to it, Harry's hips jerking in uncoordinated stutters of movement that told me more than the sheen of sweat or the high whimpers that tore themselves from his throat that he was losing control, Thomas looked up. He looked at the 'camera', blue eyes bright but not silver, not white. Human eyes.

Harry went instantly stiff beside me for a second, then he was sitting up, slapping at the disc where it lay on his stomach. I dodged a thoughtlessly jerking elbow that would have broken my nose and rolled out of the bed, out of reach. I hadn't expected Harry to admit to the truth gracefully, but this was a more extreme reaction than I had anticipated.

“Fucking hell! What in the- Marcone I _told_ you not to-”

“It wasn't me.” I ducked as Harry threw the disc in my direction. He hadn't been trying to hit me or he would have, the room wasn't large enough for him to miss except on purpose. “I didn't touch it. That was you, Harry. Your desires. The ones you won't admit to.”

“I- that's not.” He shook his head and the movement seemed to spark a chain reaction. Within seconds he was trembling, his skin gone so pale he was nearly grey. “No.” Then he was up and off the bed, stumbling into his bathroom. Harry kicked at the door, half shutting it before I heard the heavy dual thump of his knees hitting the rug. 

Thick, liquid-meat sounds came from within, the singularly recognizable soundtrack of someone being violently ill. I picked the disc up from where it had landed; the thing was built with violence or simple enthusiastic carelessness in mind, it hadn't even chipped. I slipped it into my pocket and sat on the bed, waiting. I listened to Harry retching until there was nothing but the painful scraping sound of the last few dry heaves.

When he came out he was still pale, but not quite so much badly that he looked as though he would drop any second. Harry had pulled on a pair of baggy sweats and a t-shirt that had been crumpled into a ball in the corner of his bathroom for at least three weeks. He hugged himself as he leaned against the wall.

“Harry.” I rose and touched his arm. He flinched and pulled back, stepping out of my reach while keeping his back to the wall. “Harry, I know this is hard but you need to admit that you still have feelings for Thomas. This-” I gestured at the ceiling, keeping my voice low. He was reacting so strangely...I again felt the impulse to stop. To back off and give him time to get himself under control. If I did though, I would lose the ground that I had gained tonight. “-just proves that you still want him.”

“No, John. No. I don't want him. It's _sick_ and it's _wrong_. You-” He shook his head, his eyes wide and...disbelieving. “You set this up.”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that I did. I just want you to admit-”

“Get. Out.”

I blinked. The words made sense, but they didn't. I had known that Harry would be upset but this was too much of an extreme reaction. Compared to some of the fantasies Harry had shown me this was nothing. It made no sense.

“Harry.” I held my hands up, showing them empty and peaceable. Harry stepped past me, power crackling off of his skin though he kept his arms wrapped around himself. 

“No. I don't want to hear it. So fucking _blind_.” He yanked his bedroom door open and stormed out. “I told you! I _said_ that I didn't want to talk about it. I asked you to respect me and leave it the fuck alone. But you couldn't do that, could you? This whole- I thought you-” Harry was still shaking as I followed him into the living room. He grabbed up my shirt and my jacket, throwing them at me as he kept moving toward the front door. “This whole day was just a fucking set-up to get _that_ out of me. The case that needed Thomas' help, the dinner afterward. The drinks. You-” He yanked his door open and stood aside. Not looking at me but watching me.

“This isn't- I just wanted to help you, Harry. It's not healthy for you to-”

“I don't give a shit. Leave. Now. Before I make you leave.”

I ground my teeth together, the desire to have it out with Harry right there and get it over with fighting with the part of my brain that was reminding me of what Harry could do when he was angry. And he was angry, no question about it. Something was wrong here. Something more than simply Harry's sense of loyalty driving him to repress his attraction to Raith.

I left.

~

He stopped returning my calls. Stopped answering his phone at all after the second time he picked up without thinking and I was on the other end of the line. I didn't stoop so low as to just show up at his apartment or office. That was too close to the line, too close to an absolute loss of control. If I started following him around personally I couldn't be certain that I would know where to stop. 

My people reported on his movements every hour on the hour. Harry kept up his routine with some slight changes. He didn't call or visit Raith as far as I could tell. He didn't visit with his little werewolf friends. He went out, worked, and returned to his apartment. 

I went back over what I knew and still came up with no answer that would justify the Harry's reaction. My usual sources were of no help in gathering new information either. I accepted that I was going to have to appeal to a higher power. So to speak.

“Nothing can be gained without sacrifice, Baron Marcone. Especially not knowledge.” Donar Vadderung inclined his head, bringing my attention to the black patch covering the empty socket of his eye.

“I am aware of that, sir. I'm willing to pay the price.”

“You know better than to make such promises without knowing what will be asked of you.” He tapped his fingers against the edge of his desk, not an impatient gesture but a considering one.

“You do know the answer I'm looking for.”

“Yes.” Another long pause, so long that I thought perhaps he was not going to answer. I found dealing with Donar Vadderung unsettling. There was something about him that made me feel as though he knew everything, especially the things I did not want known. “I will tell you this for free, and then you must make your decision.

“If I give you the knowledge that you seek you will have it and not Harry Dresden. Above and beyond the price I demand of you, you will lose the man.” He leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach in a patient pose. “Were you to ask me what you should do instead, which you will not do, I would tell you to recognize that this is not your knowledge to demand. It is Dresden's to give. Accept this. Make amends for the offense you have given and be content.”

“I am not sure I can do that.”

“Then you will lose him.”

~

I caught him at the beach. It was a habit of his to run there, with Raith. Since that last night he had been running it alone, running harder than had been his wont before. Harry pushed himself until he collapsed, panting and exhausted on the sand.

He saw me waiting for him at the end of his path and his pace slowed. We looked at each other and I knew that he was considering turning around and running back to his car. In the end though he kept coming, stopping twelve feet from my perch on the rock.

“Marcone.” Harry's voice was blasted, rough as the sand beneath our feet. He never carried any water with him, something I did not understand. There was no need for him to suffer in such a minor way and yet he continually chose it. There were many things about Harry I was beginning to see I would never understand. I rose and held out the sports bottle I'd brought with me.

“Harry. You look good.” A blatant lie. Harry looked as though he hadn't slept since before the incident. There were bags under his eyes that were visible even from where I stood. He snorted and crossed the remaining distance, taking the water from me without ever touching my skin.

I waited until he had taken a few long swallows, slaking the worst of his thirst. Then I pulled the small box from my pocket. Harry caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and cocked his head, a mocking smile twisting his lips.

“If that's a ring you're about to be really disappointed.”

“It is not. Please.” I tossed it to him. Harry caught it and flicked it open after running the fingers of his left hand over it in a quick gesture before opening the lid. Testing it for traps. I couldn't help the burst of pride that shot through me. Caution was always called for.

“What is it?” Harry tilted the box enough so that I could see the shattered stone fragments within. I'd made certain there wasn't enough left of it to function, which meant that it was nearly unrecognizable. A fragment of a rune here or there, but nothing more than that.

“The disc. I've destroyed it.”

“Good for you.” Harry snapped the case shut and tossed it back to me. “What's that supposed to mean to me?”

“It's an apology. An admission that I was wrong. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have pushed.” I had worked out a speech, after leaving Monoc. Grand words and gestures that would spare me some embarrassment and convince Harry that I was speaking the truth. It abandoned me now. It wouldn't have worked anyway. Harry had never been impressed by my grander lies. It was the small, quiet ones that slipped past him.

“You're right. You shouldn't have.”

“I know.” I hated it, but I knew. I thought the question might burn within me for the rest of my life, but I could live with that. What I didn't think I could live with was having Harry lost to me. Not when I'd finally taken him for my own.

Harry sighed and looked out at the lake. I started to leave. My first gesture had been made. I would give him a little more time, then try again.

“I-”

“Swear to me, on Chicago and on Amanda Beckitt that what I say here goes no further than the two of us. This is a secret you take to your grave, John.”

“I swear.” He'd said my name, much faster and easier than I'd thought he would. I would have sworn to a great many things to take advantage of this moment.

“I'm going to say this once and then never again. Do you understand? Once we leave this spot, none of this ever happened.” He laughed. “After this, you probably won't want to ever even look at me again.”

“Yes. No. Nothing could drive me that far from you.”

“You say that now.” Harry continued to stare out at the water, his jaw tight, hand gripping the sports bottle so tightly his knuckles stood out like mountains. “Thomas is my brother.”

I staggered back until I found a rock to drop onto again. Brother. That would explain- I could have misunderstood some of their closeness, but- “The vision. Your fantasy.”

“Yeah.” Disgust and shame were clear in his voice. “I want to- to- do _that_ with my own brother. My _family_.” I heard the water sloshing as his hand shook. Harry dropped to his ass in the sand, still not looking at me. “I'm...I don't know what's wrong with me.” I could hear the thickness of tears in his voice though I couldn't see them.

I turned to look up and down the beach. We were still entirely alone, my own men too far back in the trees to be seen and far too far back to overhear us. I took the time to swallow down the sickly slick taste of sour copper. Brothers. My mind whirled with a confusing mix of emotions. Shock warred with relief and a tidal pull of _desire_. I played back my own dreams, only the ones that featured Harry and Raith together and found that my new knowledge only made me want it more.

I took hold of myself and tried to think through it. What I wanted didn't come into it. Not now. The first thing to do was to ease Harry's pain. Everything else, anything else, would wait. I went to Harry, sat beside him. Not touching, but close enough that he couldn't ignore my physical presence.

“You didn't grow up together.”

“No. We have different fathers. I didn't even know Thomas was my brother until three years ago.”

“And that was three or four years after you met him?”

“Um. Yeah. Three.” Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and settled his chin on them. It was painful to look at, the huddled posture of a child in pain.

“So you met when you were both adults. And you had years of attraction to him before you discovered your blood ties.”

Harry finally looked at me, eyes red and wide. Angry, but I didn't think it was entirely at me.

“That's not an excuse! It should have stopped as soon as I found out. You don't think those kind of things about your own family! You don't!”

“You can't just decide not to feel something for someone Harry. It's not that simple and you must know that.” I grabbed at different pieces of information that I had read or heard. I had never expected to need such information for any practical purposes. “There have been cases of siblings, separated by adoption who meet decades later as adults and are attracted to one another. Some of them marry without realizing their relationship until later on. There is an attraction between them that-”

“It doesn't matter! I _know_ and it's sick.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why is it sick to want to have sex with my own brother? Hells bells, John. If you can't see that I-”

“No. Think about it Harry, really think about it. You were not raised together. You met as adults, without one of you being in a position of trust or control over the other. There are no consent issues inherent in that scenario. There is no possibility of either of you impregnating the other.”

“That's not-” Harry leaned away from me, staring.

“I'm not saying that you should pursue him, Harry. Or that you should act on your desires. I just want you to see that- that there's nothing _wrong_ with you for having these feelings.”

“The world would argue that point.”

“The world is frequently wrong.”

We sat for a while in silence, thinking. 

“He's my brother. There are other things. Things about his family that I can't tell you. I can't do that to him. I can't even let him know.”

I didn't point out that Raith was a White Court vampire. Harry knew that. He knew that Raith could feel his desire. I was not going to shatter all of Harry's delusions here and now.

“I respect that. At least think about what I've said.” I rested my hand on his shoulder. He was cold, the muscles under my hand twitching. “I won't mention this again, unless you ask.”

“Thank you.”

“Come home with me.”

“No.” Harry shook his head and leaned away from me. I let him, dropping my hand to the cold sand between us. “Not yet.” He rose to his feet and looked down at me. “I'm not- I'll call you. Later.”

I watched him walk back down the beach, his head down.

~

That evening, alone in my own bed I pulled the real disc out from its hidden spot in my nightstand. It warmed up to my skin temperature quickly as I set it on my stomach.

The image above me resolved quickly. My bedroom, candle lit and warm. Cocooning. Comforting.

Harry and Thomas were kneeling on my bed, kissing and whispering to each other. Their hands slid over bare skin, up into thick hair. They pulled gently, sweetly. Simple, unfulfilled desire.

The image version of me came into view, crawling onto the bed behind them. My hands slid up their backs, pulling them closer together as I leaned against them. The brothers turned to me, pulling me into their embrace with alluring sweetness. 

Beautiful.


End file.
